


words traced out in wine

by orphan_account



Series: Methymnian's End-of-Year Bonanza 2k17 [3]
Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking Games, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Gen, Gratuitous Feet, Light Angst, M/M, Other, Questioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Excuse me if I’m traumatized by an old man pretending to lick my cock,” he shoots back, but there’s no heat behind it. No venom. Just tipsy resignation. Hakyeon mimed sucking his dick. It’s a Tuesday. At least he did it well. Hongbin looks Hakyeon in the eye and takes another swig of soju straight from the bottle.He tilts his chin up as he lowers the bottle. Raises an eyebrow. Dares Hakyeon to make something of it. Hakyeon, for his part, just smiles like he knows some secret Hongbin’s not in on, turns away, and finishes dealing.





	words traced out in wine

**Author's Note:**

> I was given a mission by @secretnightmp3 on Twitter, the details of which we need not here concern ourselves with and which I only mention to express my hopes that I fulfilled it. 
> 
> This is another drinking party fic. But this one is Christmas-themed and falls in a specific timeframe, which is after VIXX TV2 Ep. 79. 
> 
> Happy holidays, and fuck 2017, am I right? Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out.

“So I’ve seen more of Hakyeon’s ass than I ever wanted to see,” Sanghyuk says conversationally across the end table, lifting his glass toward Wonshik. Hongbin’s mind still hasn’t quite caught up with the situation, even as Hakyeon brushes off his pajamas like it’s every day he touches Hongbin thoroughly inappropriately. Which, really, it kind of is. Hongbin clenches a fist, intending to aim a well-placed punch at Hakyeon’s thigh, and thinks better of it. 

He’s torn between grudging respect and abject horror as Hakyeon settles back into his position at the head of the end table. He reaches out and steals Jaehwan’s wineglass, taking a healthy swallow of it as Jaehwan screams. 

“Yah, thief! Get your own!” 

Hakyeon smiles and tips the glass toward its owner. “What’s yours is mine, Jaehwanie,” he chirps, and Jaehwan wrests it back from him, the wine inside sloshing precariously as Hakyeon laughs. 

“Not my wine,” Jaehwan mutters mutinously once he’s victorious, settling back under Taekwoon’s arm like he hadn’t just proven himself an addict. 

“I don’t know what you expected,” Taekwoon pipes up, addressing Wonshik. Hongbin watches as Wonshik’s hands flutter uselessly midair before landing on his homemade screwdriver and lifting it to his lips, chugging enthusiastically. Hongbin finally gets with the program and does the same with his open soju bottle. Taekwoon turns to Hakyeon. “When did you have time to learn the new HyunA choreography, anyway?”

Hakyeon sips whatever rum-based concoction is putting that flush high on his cheeks and slides his gaze first to Wonshik, then to Jaehwan. “There was an occasion,” he answers vaguely, and Hongbin doesn’t think about Hakyeon’s _occasion_ for dancing all over Wonshik. It’s not like he hasn’t danced all over _all of them_ , but really, it’s the principle of the thing. Hongbin can’t be made to think more about Hakyeon than strictly necessary. Not on fake Christmas. 

Wonshik blushes unattractively red, and Jaehwan pitches himself sideways to bury his face in Taekwoon’s neck with a protest of, “Oh, God, you’re sweaty,” as he makes contact. Hongbin exchanges a put-upon glance with Sanghyuk, who mostly looks gleeful at the course his evening has taken and is vacillating between waggling his eyebrows at Hongbin and “subtly” eyeing up Jaehwan, who blooms under the attention like…one of those onions. 

Hongbin, for all the self-indulgent aestheticism of their last concept, knows precisely fuck-all about flowers.

VIXX’s net worth in agents of inebriation had turned out to be a half-bottle of spiced rum, a half-jug of vodka, an unopened and sizable bottle of Malibu, one bottle of merlot, and eight bottles of soju, all of which they’re steadily making their way through as the night progresses. Hakyeon collects and redistributes the playing cards, including Wonshik’s damning King. 

“Hongbinnie, your face will get stuck like that,” Hakyeon teases as he hands Hongbin his card. Good, Hongbin thinks, so that his abject horror and grudging respect will be effortlessly painted on his face for the rest of his career. “You didn’t even do anything. You just had to stand there.”

It’s a wee bit of an understatement. “Excuse me if I’m traumatized by an old man pretending to lick my cock,” he shoots back, but there’s no heat behind it. No venom. Just tipsy resignation. Hakyeon mimed sucking his dick. It’s a Tuesday. At least he did it well. Hongbin looks Hakyeon in the eye and takes another swig of soju straight from the bottle. 

He tilts his chin up as he lowers the bottle. Raises an eyebrow. Dares Hakyeon to make something of it. Hakyeon, for his part, just smiles like he knows some secret Hongbin’s not in on, turns away, and finishes dealing.

“To be fair,” Sanghyuk says, waving his newly acquired King card around pointedly, “if it were anyone _other_ than Hakyeon, it would have been hilarious.” Jaehwan hits Sanghyuk, yelling emphatically, and Sanghyuk recoils, giggling, holding his drink out of harm’s way. “Your butt doesn’t do that!” _Whap!_ Hongbin flinches at the sense memory of those open-palmed smacks. “Hyung, he’s hitting me!”

Taekwoon wrestles Jaehwan further into his armpit, getting one hand on Jaehwan’s arm and effectively pinning him. Jaehwan, who is the group’s title-holding Most Annoying Person—regardless of Hakyeon’s frequent bids for the position—switches tactics, complaining loudly that Sanghyuk is insulting his talent for girl-group dances.

Hakyeon sips his drink serenely, the picture of primness. Or he would be, if his posture weren’t so loose, the booze making him bright and languid. “It’s not a girl group dance, it’s a solo,” he mediates, and Jaehwan puts his glass down on the table loudly (wine sloshing alarmingly once more) and lunges over Taekwoon, swatting at Hakyeon with his free hand. 

“Whose side are you on!”

“My side,” Hakyeon giggles, evading Jaehwan by tumbling half-onto Hongbin. He’s perilously close to the dick he just pretended to suck, and Hongbin doesn’t have the spare processing power to deal with that right now. He rolls Hakyeon back off of him with a noise of disgust, and Hakyeon reaches out to pat his head reassuringly as he sits back up. He’s still placing pat, pat, reassuring pat on Hongbin’s head as he says, “Sanghyukkie, you get to be king. Be king.”

Hongbin removes Hakyeon’s hand from himself. If he holds onto that hand for a moment before tossing it back at its owner, well, everyone’s focused on whatever Sanghyuk’s about to say anyway. 

Sanghyuk casts his gaze around the assembled members, taking in the Christmas-themed wreckage of their living room as he does so. “Number…three, I guess,” he begins, and takes a large sip of his drink, “take off number four’s shirt without using your hands.”

Wonshik raises his hand apologetically and says “four,” and Taekwoon chugs soju from his 2000-won coffee mug (Hongbin had been particularly proud of that purchase for its perfectly-suited shittiness) and holds up his three. Which makes Hongbin’s evening that much better, like Christmas has actually come early and they’re not getting trashed in designer PJs in their living room in the middle of December.

Taekwoon clambers out from behind the table, taking the path of least resistance. This involves his gangly limbs making their way across both Jaehwan’s lap (“Yah!”) and Sanghyuk’s—a loud _smack_ resounding off of Taekwoon’s ass—before Taekwoon plops himself down in front of Wonshik. Hongbin physically turns so he has a great view of Taekwoon divesting himself of his slippers and wiggling his toes suggestively. 

He’s glad he didn’t just take a sip of his drink, because with the sudden laughter that bubbles out of him, it would have gone horribly wrong.

“You have a _mouth_ ,” Hakyeon protests weakly, but Taekwoon’s giggling and not listening to Hakyeon, jabbing at Wonshik’s stomach with pointed toes, watching Wonshik attempt feebly to fend him off. “And you’re going to undress Wonshik with your _feet_?”

“I’m going to _try_ to undress Wonshik with my feet,” Taekwoon corrects. “Please anticipate this dance move in LR’s next choreography.” He sounds distracted, focused on arranging Wonshik’s limbs to his liking. Wonshik is leaned back on his elbows, Taekwoon crouched between his legs. “Wonshik-ah, don’t move or you’ll probably put your mouth on my dick.”

Hongbin snorts into his soju bottle but declines to comment.

What follows is an impressive but truly bizarre display of Taekwoon peeling Wonshik out of his tracksuit, which, as expected, goes entirely sideways. Taekwoon scoots his way up to Wonshik’s chest. Wonshik’s face is half-buried in Taekwoon’s crotch. He makes a noise of distress but doesn’t move, other than to lift his arms and allow Taekwoon to wrestle the top up further, exposing Wonshik’s white wifebeater.

Hongbin thinks that this is an excellent time to spout some ancient wisdom. He reaches behind himself for his re-gifted book of positivity, opens to a random page, and looks up at Taekwoon. “It does not matter how slowly you go, as long as you do not stop,” he says sagely, and Taekwoon leans sideways to whack him, which results in Wonshik getting a face full of Taekwoon’s clothed dick.

Hakyeon dissolves into helpless peals of laughter behind Hongbin. Jaehwan starts shrieking something about Whisper. Hongbin summons all the self-control he can muster and doesn’t comment on Wonshik’s first gay experience, the betting pool he knows Hakyeon runs, or LR. 

“I’m going to burn that book,” Taekwoon mumbles, cradling the back of Wonshik’s head with his palm to prevent further incident. 

“I paid 6500 won for that book!” Jaehwan yells in protest. Hongbin clutches it to his chest protectively.

Taekwoon gets the shirt off with minimal difficulty, tossing it away. Wonshik sits up and Taekwoon slides back gracelessly to sit in his lap, giggling again. 

Wonshik makes a desperate noise and hugs Taekwoon to his chest, still giggling. “We are _not_ doing that in LR’s choreography,” Wonshik mutters, and Taekwoon pats him consolingly on the back. “Half of the internet thinks LR is a—what is it called—a gay subunit—“

“A ship,” Sanghyuk calls, and Taekwoon flops backward out of Wonshik’s lap to return to his spot between Hakyeon and Jaehwan. “The word you’re looking for is a ship.” 

“Well, it isn’t,” Wonshik bristles, chugging his screwdriver. “So there.” Hongbin feels no pity for him, as Wonshik’s the common thread between Hakyeon’s _occasion_ to learn the sexy blowjob dance and his doing it on Hongbin. All of his problems start with Wonshik. Why are they friends?

Taekwoon cuddles up to Jaehwan again, and Jaehwan allows himself to be manhandled. Hongbin sees his own alcohol-induced crisis mirrored in Wonshik’s face as he watches Taekwoon settle. 

Hakyeon makes impatient grabby hands for the cards again, chattering about LR fan theories as he mixes them up and distributes them again. Taekwoon peers tipsily at Hakyeon as if trying to figure out _why_ Hakyeon has been reading LR fan theories. Sanghyuk reaches across Jaehwan to squeeze Taekwoon’s knee in solidarity. He never quite makes it back to sitting up straight, his hand stopping somewhere between Jaehwan’s legs and staying.

“Oh, it’s me,” Hakyeon cuts himself off mid-monologue, and Hongbin groans. Everyone groans. Hakyeon has no sense of decency or propriety. “Two, ah, play the pepero game with five.”

That’s a cop-out. “That’s a cop-out,” Hongbin ribs, and Hakyeon swats irritably at his thigh. Really, Hakyeon should be punished with…a toy hammer for suggesting something they do on the average variety show. Where’s that toy hammer? 

“I’m two and—Jaehwan’s five,” Sanghyuk explains, as everyone else drinks idly. Hongbin notes that his hand has fortuitously disappeared from Jaehwan’s crotch. “Do we even _have_ pepero in the house?”

Hakyeon hums in thought. “I think I have a box in my room.” He stands unsteadily and Hongbin lifts a hand to assist him. He’s concerned Hakyeon might…break a hip or something. It has nothing to do with the way Hakyeon smiles gratefully down at him as he swaggers off to his bedroom to check for rogue cookies.

“ _Hyung_ , you can’t tell me that, I’m on a diet!” Wonshik moans woefully into his highball.

“It’s okay, because I don’t,” Hakyeon says guiltily as he reenters the room. The cookie fiend. “So instead, five gets to identify members with his lips.”

Jaehwan finishes his glass of wine and scoots gamely out from behind the table. He sits expectantly, closing his eyes and pouting his lips out dramatically. “I’m ready, everyone come here,” he croons, and Hongbin grimaces at Hakyeon. He isn’t alone—Wonshik and Taekwoon are sending matching looks of loathing at Hakyeon—but Hakyeon has fielded many a glower from his members and is unfazed. He gestures for them to form a line.

Wonshik is first, and he offers his bare bicep to Jaehwan, who kisses it loudly. Wetly. Hongbin can _hear_ the slobber. Jaehwan makes a high noise of deliberation. “Mm…” He drops another theatrical kiss on Wonshik’s bicep, Wonshik’s skin shining. Hongbin sees a shiver run up Wonshik’s spine before he visibly calms himself. “Wonshikkie’s arm,” Jaehwan concludes.

“You don’t get to know until you guess all of them,” Hakyeon chastises, and really, this is fine, they’ve done this for fan stuff too. Just another day in the life. 

Wonshik moves aside, bewilderment and arousal writ large on his face, and Hakyeon goes forward. He tips his head to the side, yanks back the collar of his pajama top, and guides Jaehwan to his clavicle. Jaehwan runs his lips over the bare skin, and then his tongue, and that doesn’t stir _anything_ in Hongbin, thank you very much. No emotional provocation here. 

“Hakyeon’s collarbone,” Jaehwan declares confidently, and Hongbin’s mind screeches about how Jaehwan can _know_ that. Hakyeon looks inordinately proud as he moves past Jaehwan to join Wonshik. 

Jaehwan proves to be a savant at Hakyeon’s little game, correctly guessing Hongbin’s ankle, thrust out awkwardly in front of his face, Taekwoon’s thigh, and Sanghyuk’s—

“Ah, _ah_ , that’s Sanghyuk’s mouth,” Jaehwan chokes out between filthy kisses, shifting awkwardly on the spot, one hand over his crotch. “ _Shit_.” 

And so it comes to this. It _always_ comes to this. Sanghyuk is a man who knows what he wants, and what he wants is—has been? They do seem familiar—apparently Jaehwan, however he can get him. Hongbin upends his soju bottle over his mouth like it’s an oxygen mask on this rapidly descending plane. 

“Jesus, maybe not in the living room?” he pleads earnestly, looking at Hakyeon for some relief. 

It doesn’t help, even when Hakyeon says, “You two stop hurting Hongbin,” in the tone of an exasperated parent. It doesn’t help because Hongbin’s looking at Hakyeon and then at _them_ and it’s all blurring into one soju-soaked mental image of how it would feel to kiss Hakyeon. Which is a problem, first and foremost, because Hongbin _doesn’t kiss men_ as a general habit, and most assuredly not the men with whom he shares a living space.

“They were going to do that in the pepero game anyway,” Taekwoon observes, and Hakyeon inclines his head, conceding the point. “You have set a record, though. It usually takes longer to…devolve.”

Wonshik has emptied his glass. He passes a new bottle of soju to Hongbin, who receives it gratefully, as he reaches for the vodka to replenish his own drink. 

“He got them all right, though,” Hakyeon muses, and then raises his voice. “Come back, you two. We’re still playing. That includes you.” He winks at Hongbin. It’s awful. Hongbin hates it. He sets about opening his soju perhaps a bit more roughly than it’s warranted. 

Jaehwan looks insufferably smug as he attempts to cuddle back under Taekwoon’s arm. Taekwoon squirms closer to Hakyeon. “Take this,” Hakyeon demands, thrusting cards at Sanghyuk and Jaehwan.

“Don’t bother, neither of us is king.” Sanghyuk slings his arm around Jaehwan’s neck and yanks him closer. Jaehwan goes without protest, slipping one hand down to ride high on Sanghyuk’s thigh, squeezing the muscle there. 

“I’m king,” Wonshik admits, stirring his drink with his finger before sticking it in his mouth up to the third knuckle. Hongbin swears he can see dollar signs flash in Hakyeon’s eyes. 

Hongbin chucks his soju cap at Wonshik. “Great, because you being king worked out so well last time.” Wonshik aims a punch at Hongbin’s upper arm. Hongbin wields his book of positivity like a shield, flipping frantically through it and yelling, “Who you are is what you have been! Who you will be is what you do now!”

He barely sees Taekwoon lean across Hakyeon, nearly kneeing him in the groin, before he wrests the book from Hongbin’s hands. “I am _too drunk_ for you to be quoting the Buddha at me,” Taekwoon whines, tossing the book petulantly into Hakyeon’s abused lap. “Hakyeon. Make him stop. Make Jaehwan take the book back.”

“Hongbin gets one more strike,” Hakyeon decides magnanimously, running his fingers through Taekwoon’s hair. Hongbin chugs more soju to distance himself from the chill that threatens to creep up his spine. He needs to get his shit together. He needs to be elsewhere. Gaming. Not…introspecting. 

“Wonshikkie,” Hakyeon’s voice pulls him out of his spiral, “what is your dare?”

Wonshik whacks Hongbin one more time, just to rub it in, and rights himself, brushing his wifebeater back into place. “Uh. One and five. One, reenact your…favorite sex position on five!” Wonshik exclaims this as if inspiration has suddenly hit, and Hongbin checks his card. It’s a five. Of course it’s a fucking five. He tosses it irately at Wonshik, and it flutters down.

Taekwoon starts that obnoxiously adorable giggling again as he holds up his one card for everyone to see. 

Warning bells sound in Hongbin’s brain, whatever part of it is safe from Hakyeon’s sneaky invasion. “Yah, am I the man or is he the man?” Hongbin insists, and again, when Taekwoon crawls over and urges him to his feet, “ _Yah,_ am I the man or is he the man?”

“You’re both men,” Sanghyuk observes, and Hongbin sighs a long, put-upon sigh and allows Taekwoon to heft his limbs around until Taekwoon is kneeling, crotch-level, in front of him.

“Well,” Hakyeon says, breaking the silence that has fallen. Hongbin raises an eyebrow down at Taekwoon. Taekwoon smiles winningly up at him. Hongbin rolls his eyes and plops back down, and he notes that, once again, Wonshik’s eyes follow Taekwoon all the way back to his seat.

Sanghyuk is king again next, and he orders two and four to kiss. Which is great, except Hongbin is two. Hakyeon is four. And suddenly, he’s had way too much soju. It’s the only reason for him to feel lightheaded at the thought of Hakyeon’s face that close to his. 

Hongbin curls in on himself, looks askance at Hakyeon, because Hakyeon knows what he’s doing. He _knows_. He casts a pleading glance at Taekwoon, then Wonshik, hoping for some kind of veto out of heterosexual solidarity, but finds no salvation. “My mouth is unspoiled,” he protests. “Why does it have to be _Hakyeon_ , can I tap out of this on the grounds that it’s sacrilege—“

He’s cut off by Hakyeon’s lips abruptly covering his own, tipsy and rum-flavored. Laughter and shouts from around the room. Everything has suddenly narrowed down to this, though, Hakyeon’s mouth aligned crookedly with Hongbin’s. Hongbin pulls him closer, and something slides into place when Hakyeon’s hands land warmly on the back of his head, his shoulder. He’s seen Hakyeon kiss domineering and sexy—they all have—but he’s careful with Hongbin, like he might break, and Hongbin’s brain says two things, softly at first and then louder: _oh_ and _fuck_. 

Hakyeon is smiling when he pulls back, and Hongbin follows him, snatches another kiss, says, “This is not—“ But it _is_ , and Hongbin’s going to have a lot to think about after tonight. About himself, about Hakyeon. More than strictly necessary. 

Hakyeon pats his cheek sympathetically and murmurs, “Of course it isn’t. It never is.” And Hongbin wants to know why he sounds so sadly matter-of-fact about that, because Hongbin’s a piece of shit and just went through at least three stages of grief for his heterosexuality and wants to _know_ , with the urgency of those who are well and truly fucked. 

“No, Hakyeon, why are you _like this_ ,” Hongbin groans, wrapping his arms around Hakyeon’s chest and hauling him back toward Hongbin. “Will it make you happy if I kiss you more.” 

“Kiss him more,” Jaehwan crows. “Sanghyuk, tell him—“

But Hakyeon’s shaking his head, putting on that smile he uses for obstreperous variety hosts, and sitting back, gently prizing himself from Hongbin’s arms. The cheers have subsided and Wonshik looks blankly devastated, like someone’s finally told him romance is dead. Hongbin forces a laugh and reaches over to squeeze Wonshik’s knee supportively. 

“One more round, I think,” Hakyeon says decisively as he shuffles the cards once more. “It’s late. We need to go to bed soon.” Whines of _hyung_ from around the table. “We have schedules tomorrow.” His tone brooks no argument as he finishes his drink. “Who’s got the King card?”

Quizzical looks around the table. Hongbin realizes with a sinking feeling in his gut that none of them have it, and so he must. “I do,” he mutters, trying to bring back the atmosphere he’s just killed. He can’t find the heart, though. “Everyone finish your drinks,” he orders lamely. “Hyung, I’ll help you clean up. Wonshik needs to talk to Taekwoon.” Let it never be said that Hongbin didn’t wingman his best friend, even when he felt like shit. 

“Of course,” Hakyeon says warmly as he shoos the members away from the table, swaying on his feet. Jaehwan pulls Sanghyuk swiftly toward Jaehwan’s bedroom. Taekwoon tilts his head curiously at Wonshik, who makes an awkward ‘after you’ gesture toward his own room.

Hakyeon smiles up at Hongbin as he bends to collect their used glasses, handing them off to Hongbin as he gathers empty bottles. “Thank you, Hongbinnie.” It’s like nothing happened. Like Hakyeon is nothing but perfect manners and blind resilience. It’s a layer of bullshit Hongbin’s seen him pull on for years now, and it rankles Hongbin at the same time as it makes something swell uncomfortably in his chest. 

“What isn’t it ever?” Hongbin blurts as Hakyeon dumps the bottles into the recycling. He’s hip-checked away from the sink so that Hakyeon can turn on the tap and start rinsing the glasses. Hakyeon seems content to bring all his attention to bear on that, rather than on Hongbin’s question. “Hyung. What isn’t it ever.” Hongbin can be as stubborn as Hakyeon. 

Hakyeon presses his lips into a thin line, peeling the dish gloves from his hands. He leans back against the counter, gives Hongbin a cross once-over. “Lee Hongbin, you’re not the first idol to kiss me.” Hongbin knows this. “You’re not even the first _straight_ idol. It _never_ means anything. It can’t. We have a job.” Hakyeon’s voice goes all soft and understanding. “I know you’re lonely. But, from experience, it really is easier just to let it go.” 

The silence stretches out between them, tense, taut. 

Finally, Hakyeon nods in a way that means “good talk,” and makes to leave the kitchen. “Hyung,” Hongbin pleads. “What if I can’t. What if I think about it, and give it time, and I still want to kiss you.”

Hakyeon levels a searching gaze on Hongbin, narrowing his eyes like Hongbin’s thrown him off-balance. “Then I guess you’ll have to decide if ‘easy’ is what you want,” Hakyeon confesses, deafening in the silence. “Probably a decision best made sober.” Hakyeon pats Hongbin’s cheek, his chest, slides a hand into his hair and tugs gently. “Hyung loves you even if you’re difficult.”

That _thing_ bursts warm and bitter in Hongbin’s chest, laced with soju and fraught emotion, and every fiber of Hongbin’s being screams at him to clutch Hakyeon’s thin body to his own, to breathe in his scent and feel the weight of Hakyeon against himself. 

He doesn’t. He smiles tightly at Hakyeon, hoping he looks brave, grown-up. “Hyung, you’re a sap,” he chokes out. He’s rewarded by a pout and a halfhearted smack to his chest. “Sometimes I don’t mind it,” Hongbin admits, and Hakyeon’s cheeks flush. It’s so easy. It could be so easy. “But I…” It pains him to say. “I think I should go to bed now.” 

Hakyeon smiles at him, wan and gorgeous. Hongbin prays that it’s the soju. He knows, somewhere inside, that it isn’t. Something’s changed. 

“I think we should both go to bed now,” Hakyeon agrees, leading the way out of the kitchen and turning off the lights. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know what the prompt was, I’m posting it as the first comment. Otherwise, please let me know how you liked it (or didn’t)! 
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/slowlorisvevo)
> 
> [tumblr](http://rapjoonhyung.tumblr.com)


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